


The Little Things

by Herald_of_Naamah



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Multi, Polyamory, Polyfidelity, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2018-05-18 22:13:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 18,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5945065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herald_of_Naamah/pseuds/Herald_of_Naamah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair and his consort Warden Commander Amell have one duty they have not yet performed for Fereldan. In seeking an answer to how they might fulfill this desperate need, they wind up gaining the assistance of an unlikely ally- one who they, in retrospect, should have seen coming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thamk you for glancing at this story! I intend on updating as consistently as possible, as a goal is to get to the heart of the tale for Valentine's Day (here's hoping!).
> 
> This will explore a hidden past and deal in some potentially AU territory, but one that makes sense in the universe.
> 
> If you have trouble with polyamorous storylines, maybe not your cup of tea! Oh yes, and rating is subject to change at this point.

Nearly fifteen years. Ilyria Amell sighed as she stretched up to her full height regally, looking the apologetic healer in the eyes with a forced smile. "Thank you," the mage-woman managed as she stood, ignoring the crackle of her protesting muscles as she rolled her shoulders. "I appreciate your assistance."

"It'll happen or it won't," the kindly elderly woman offered. "There are herbs..."

"I am aware." Lyri cut the woman off. "Red clover and dandelion." She nodded towards her pack. "I was hopeful, that's all."

The old woman reached out, squeezing the Warden by the hand in understanding. Ilyria could only turn away, unable to speak. She headed towards the door, exiting without another word. It was too much- even after more than a decade of trying, it was heartbreak after heartbreak. The worst part of it was that there were no alternatives, no solutions. Time kept marching ever onward, ever her enemy, as she attempted to rectify the issue. Alistair needed her- desperately- to fix this, even if he wouldn't say so. His eyes told the tale more clearly than words ever could. After so long, Lyri read him as though he were a particularly interesting tome. Which is why her failure was all the more striking.

Almost fifteen years together, and Ilyria Amell- consort to the king of Fereldan- still had not managed to produce an heir to the throne.

Alistair had made his point very clear: he would take no wife officially, and no woman but Warden Commander Amell was allowed in his bed. The lack of official title was a desperate attempt to keep it from looking as though he was favoring mages over the Templars; as ridiculous a notion as it was, with him once having been a Templar, some claimed taking her as his wife would have made a political statement about the conflict between the two factions. Yet he remained true to her in spirit, and Lyri knew her place at his side was secure. She truly loved him, but in this one thing she oddly wished he might relent. Not only as a king, but as a man. Alistair would make an amazing father...

Pushing back the thought, Warden Amell left the room to the expectant face of her lover and King. Alistair's eyes betrayed the hope his body no longer could, and when Lyri shook her head she saw it dim just a bit. He seemed to ignore it, instead coming forward to her and wrapping around her shoulders. "It's alright." The words were hollow, and Lyri could see them to be something of a lie. "We'll just start again," he offered. "It isn't as though the attempting isn't pleasant."

Even the joke in his voice didn't quite resonate, though Ilyria couldn't help but chuckle at his words. "Again," she acknowledged.

It had been a harsh set of years for the two. Since their reunion during the Blight, Alistair and Amell were a common sight together. While their high positions meant much of the time was spent away from each other, both had made it clear they were never far in thought. Time with each other went public in far too many cases, meaning it was not until after Alistair's quest to learn what he could of his father that they had been able to concentrate truly on the main concern of his advisors: the line of succession. But with the Taint heavy in both of them, it seemed unlikely they would conceive together- so after four years, Amell had gone to hunt for some way to remove the issue.

The quest was an utter failure- at least in that regard.

Alistair was supportive of his chosen liaison in spite of his advisors' suggestions he take another as a wife- or at least attempt to father a child (thank the Maker none of them knew about Kieran!). Ilyria was more softened in her approach: she had asked Alistair to lay with other women, but he just smiled and shook his head. The irony of the decision was not lost on either of them however, because in truth both of them had dalliances before now. Alistair had Morrigan, even if not from choice. And they both had...

"We still have the invitation to Skyhold," Alistair noted with a flourish. "I know we were planning on cancelling..."

"I want to go," Ilyria decided quickly.

"I suspected as much. Tomorrow?"

"Don't we need preparations, announcements?" Ilyria asked, skeptical.

Alistair's only response was a quirky grin that had become his hallmark. "What? Have we always proclaimed our projected arrival before?" he asked.

Ilyria couldn't help but smile, pushing her disappointment to the back of her mind. "That is true, my love. It'll be like the old days- just you, me..."

"Tents, horseback. Like a real vacation."

"Except with a few dozen guards at our back," Amell sighed.

"A few concessions," Alistair admitted. "It isn't that much worse than the past, is it?"

Ilyria threw her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek. "Not at all," she assured. "Ideas like this are precisely why I love you."

"And here I thought it was the shared affection for fancy cheese."

The easy repoire the duo had always shared served well to calm the mage down. It helped that he pulled her back in to press his lips against hers, nestling his forehead against hers. It was as if they were just meeting once again- not on the edge of a battlefield, but for the true first time, back overlooking the edge of Lake Calanhad, the dark of night enclosing around them...

"It's not just the cheese," Amell whispered heavily. "I would love to show you how much more there is in great detail. But first, we should probably pack."


	2. Chapter 2

When the disappearance of Fereldan's monarch and his consort was reported, Cullen became immediately on-guard. His own hand had penned the request for them to come view the troops at Skyhold after all, considering that Inquisitor Trevelyan was bent towards an alliance with both the Warden Commander and the King of the east-bordering country and wanted them to view her troops. The Commander's suspicions were well-confirmed a few days later when his most capable messenger approached with a letter written not by Amell but Alistair, a penmanship Cullen had not seen in what felt like an age. It brought a smile to his face, then a sigh as he considered just how much work a royal visitation would be- even in its most clandestine form.

The existence of the correspondence shook Cullen into action. He ensured that the soldiers were ready to make an impressive demonstration at a moment's request, taking them through both basic and more complex drills. In addition, he quietly took care of asking for the visiting quarters in the corner tower be prepared, paying a hefty tip to the washerwoman who heeded the request for her silence in the matter. No need to set off any alarms, especially considering the last person to know should be Josephine. The Antivan would surely make a large deal from the visit, and Cullen quite gleaned from the letter that this was anything but a travel to be made into a to-do.

The Commander was sure he was taking precautions, which explained his surprise when he found his morning cup of tea (spent, as always, overlooking paperwork from the outer posts) interrupted by a rather imposing yet petite figure leaning against his doorframe.

"Leliana."

"Cullen." The spymistress pressed her lips together, eyes narrowing at her quarry. "I hear some rather strange rumors about your activities of late. Almost as if you are preparing for something."

Cullen made a point to simply blink in confusion and reach for his tea. "Preparing?" One eyebrow lifted, the Commander taking great care not to raise a hand to the back of his neck in his usual show of discomfort. "I'm sure I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Of course not. By the way, you have a heavier pulse by your right ear when you're lying."

"Maker's..." Cullen muttered, fingers rushing to brush hair away from the location. "It really isn't fair trying to keep things from you."

"I would not be effective at my duties if it were," the Inquisitor's secret-keeper reminded.

"I suppose not."

Leliana smiled in her success. "Well then," she noted, accent lending to the sire of amusement, "which one of my people told you that the Heroes of Fereldan were coming to visit the Inquisitor?" Her tongue stumbled over the last word, the Orlesian obviously no longer used to referring to her beloved by title anymore.

Cullen stopped himself chuckling- barely. "None," he admitted.

Leliana rolled her shoulders back, closing the door as she stepped fully inside his office. "Nonsense. I was the only one with that knowledge, and I was very careful with those I released it to. If I have a leak..."

Cullen shook his head, looking down at his papers in stubborn silence while he allowed a smirk to lighten his face. "Your people are as trustworthy as ever, I'm sure," he calmed.

"Then who..." Leliana balked, pausing. "Amell? I was quite under the impression you fancied her at some point in time, but I didn't believe you to be close." The blush on Cullen's cheeks must have been a dead giveaway, because Leliana's next expression of any sort was a surprised snort, and a glare. "So it WAS Lyri who sent the letter."

"No. It wasn't."

Leliana shook her head, stepping up to the very edge of Cullen's desk and staring at him. The Commander shifted uncomfortably while he attempted to keep his focus on his work, but ended up dropping the pen and meeting the spymaster's gaze directly. When he did, Lwliana backed up triumphantly. "Oh," she trilled. "How delightfully thrilling, Commander. I would never have guessed you and King Alistair to be on friendly terms. It was his highness, I'm sure of it." Cullen nodded slowly. "Since when," Leliana continued, "have you been on such... intimate terms with Alistair?"

Cullen choked on a sip of his tea at the use of the word intimate. "Excuse me?" he clarified, refusing to meet the bard's eye.

"Oh I know it wasn't... that is, I would never presume... is that spot by your earlobe twitching again?"

Cullen just muttered unintelligibly under his breath before asking, "Please leave."

"As you will, Commander. But I will learn your secrets."

"There is nothing to tell."

"I do not even slightly believe that, Cullen. That's alright. I'm sure I can get the story- I am extremely persuasive."

"Leave," Cullen repeated, exasperated. "I will not have you trying to make something out of nothing."

"Were it nothing, you would have been offended, my friend." Cullen paused, the pen on his desk rolling off in the silence to create an artificially loud clank as it fell onto the stonework. Leliana chuckled, the sound absolutely musical in nature. "Oh dear. You have the same look as when I said your job was to look pretty. You blush quite beautifully, Commander."

"Maker's breath," Cullen sighed. "Whatever... intimacy you accuse me of would have been in the distant past. We are friends."

Leliana nodded. "I imagined so. At least after seeing Alistair and Lyri together." She laughed at Cullen's fidgitting. "Don't be so disappointed. She still looked for someone of your persuasions, after all. Or maybe you are jealous of the Warden Commander, and not his Majesty?"

"Stop."

Leliana shook her head. "The teasing is too much fun, but as you wish. But I will have the story somehow, Cullen. Be assured of that."

With the spymistress' departure after that line, Cullen let out a sigh. A hand came up to the back of his neck in an attempt at comfort as the door closed behind her, leaving only a dim light remaining to shower in from the window. In the shadow, he squinted to see the page before him before giving up and realizing he would have to light a candle. When the flame was urged into existence he found himself momentarily lost in it, thought taking over. He had a lot of memories, both good and bad, when it came to fire...

Cullen blinked away the reverie after a brief moment, returning to his daily reports. Yet there was also the addition of excitement, realizing that soon (very soon) he would be able to be reunited with the best friends he had ever had.


	3. Chapter 3

Alistair looked across the dangerous-seeming chasm and felt a twitch of envy twitch through his body. It wasn't that the palace in Denerim was lacking per se, but he certainly did not have a grand moat crossing an endless pit of death at his disposal as the Inquisitor did. Not that he needed a moat or chasm of course, but there were times he dearly wished for one anyway. Anytime he had to put on that abhorrent gold-red armor he was supposed to favor for one...

"Alistair?"

Lyri's voice forced the blonde back to the task at hand as they led their unwilling mounts across the bridge slowly. Even though they were sturdy and trusting horses, the sheer height of the drop on either side had spooked both enough to cause them to halt. It was a brilliant effect, making Skyhold even more defensible in its position. Alistair stalled his fascination though to turn to his lover with a wide smile, responding to his name as it fell from her lips. "Yes, dear?"

"Think we can get one of these in Denerim?"

Alistair chuckled. "The unending chasm? Already thought about it. The city planners will never go for it. Amaranthine however..."

Lyri shook her head. "Not that," she clarified, pointing nearly to the sky. "That."

Alistair followed her gaze to the high, white tower that stuck out from the center in the glimmering sun, almost bright enough to blind. "Now that we could possibly engineer."

"I'll consider the moat thing in Amaranthine though. Just for you, my love," she promised cheekily, winking. Maker he loved that woman.

The duo steeped forward to the gate confidently, eyes up to find the watchman at the top and happily surprised to find it was a woman in Warden's armor. Alistair had known that Inquisitor Trevelyan had been working with the Orlesian Wardens of course, but seeing them involved in daily life at her Keep was a thing of beauty. Recognizing the emblazoned griffon on Amell's cloak, the guard smartly ordered the gateway open and started down to meet the new visitors. Alistair leaned against the stonework of the trellis, waiting beside Lyri so they could announce their presence properly- at least, as proper as they were willing. There was a high likelihood they were going to be causing alarm to many an unsuspecting Fereldan.

"...Warden Commander Amell?" The hesitant voice of the Warden watchman was right before them, and Alistair focused on her confusion as she looked between Amell and himself. The mage put a finger to her lips, nodding almost imperceptibly.

"Hawthorne, wasn't it?" Lyri asked. "You were at Amaranthine a few years back. Sorry if I don't remember exactly..."

"Two years, ma'am," was the response. "Transferred to Orlais after a month with you."

Amell nodded, her eyes darkening. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. You couldn't have known."

Lyri smiled, but Alistair noted it was a bit muted. "Just the same," she reiterated.

Alistair cut in briefly. "If you don't mind, I would certainly like to stable these creatures."

Hawthorne stood sharply, her eyes looking the monarch up and down. "To the right, circle around. Master Dennet's set up beside the smithy. Can't miss it."

"Many thanks. Lyri..?"

"You take care of the horses," his companion offered. "I'll make our presence known."

The quiet question of, "Is he your new second in command," flooded Alistair and made him almost laugh hysterically as he headed to put the horses up.

Once the mounts were securely away and cared for, Alistair heard steps behind him that put him completely on-guard. It was followed by a very calm, "Losing your awareness, your highness?" that almost would have been chilling if Alistair didn't hear something familiar in the timber of that voice. Instead, he very cautiously turned around and burst into a smile as he saw the identity of the speaker.

"You would know something about that, wouldn't you- Commander, isn't it these days?" The ensuing staring match was intense, and resulting in several minutes of silence followed by a burst of laughter emitting from both participants. Cullen extended his hand only to find himself pulled in for a comradely hug by his one-time friend. "It's good to see you, Cullen."

The commander looked surprised by Alistair's warmth but quickly brushed it off. "Likewise. It's been a long time."

"Since I was in Kirkwall," Alistair confirmed as he looked over the other blonde. "You look much better now than you did then."

"Skyhold agrees with me." Alistair felt his ears perk as he heard he response. After so long since they'd last seen each other (and even longer since they had been true comrades), he had been sure he would have lost the ability- but no, he could definitely tell when Cullen was lying. Or at least stretching the truth.

"I'm glad to hear it," he carted smoothly, making a mental note to press the issue in more private settings. "Lyri went to introduce herself. Any idea how long we might be waiting?"

Cullen's smile only widened. "I thought Leliana's math might be off on your arrival, actually. I have a feeling we will not be waiting very long at all, considering..." As the former Templar started to explain, Lyri came running around the corner with pale cheeks and a profuse blinking. "Ah... hello, Amell."

Ilyria distractedly waved at Cullen, her mouth opening and closing a few times. Concerned, Alistair tapped her shoulder. "Lyri, love..."

"I'm fine," she demanded.

Cullen was smiling evilly, a tiny of mischief in his eyes. "Are you, now?"

Alistair, confused, looked between the two. "Alright. What joke am I missing?"

"This Inquisitor is... indisposed. Along with her other advisors," Ilyria explained dryly.

"Indisposed?" the King asked, still unsure. When he saw that Cullen was still holding back an expression the reality dawned on his. "All of them?"

"I'd prefer not to talk about it," Lyri noted. That was when the current situation hit, and she turned back to Cullen with the exuberant gasp Alistair had been expecting. He had heard his consort squeal only rarely in their time together, and this was louder than he'd been prepared to hear. Quite suddenly her arms were around the neck of the Inquisition's commander, and her face had quite disappeared into the fur of his coat as his arms found a rather familiar perch at her hip. "Cullen!" she mumbled. "It's been far too long. And tell me I did NOT hear you use my last name again!"

There was a momentary stutter, followed by what was likely an apology as Lyri pulled away and considered his eyes closely. "I'd scarcely believed it when I heard you were in charge around here, but Alistair assured me when he saw you in Kirkwall he thought you'd be... well, better than when we'd last seen each other at any rate."

Cullen nodded seriously. "I was meaning to say something about that..."

Ilyria raised a hand, putting a finger in front of his lips. "It's the past, Cullen. Don't think about it."

"But..."

Alistair stepped in, a hand on each of their shoulders. "I'd let her have her way," the King advised. "She picked up some things that make her rather persuasive, and if you don't just do as she says she'll nag until you think it's your idea anyway."

Ilyria gave a childish pout but did not contradict. In the end Cullen just sighed and admitted defeat in favor of taking over the next duty of showing his two oldest friends around Skyhold. It was every bit as entertaining as he had hoped, and before long the trio was truly back into rhythms that all three thought had been forgotten over a decade earlier when they were stupid teenagers curious what one could get away with when they played innocent. Alistair watched his lover and his one-time best friend with increasing interest, remembering keenly how close they had all been in the old days. He couldn't help but think about what could have been- but more intriguingly, what could still come to pass...


	4. Chapter 4

After a week in Skyhold, Ilyria Amell was starting to get the impression the entire complex was carefully constructed by an entire army of well-trained craftsmen who stopped the war against Corypheus one evening and spent their following days relieving the boredom of not fighting for their lives by creating a masterpiece. It was well-renovated enough- not to mention that for as much as the Antivan consular tried to deny it, Inquisitor Trevelyan insinuated such an event was precisely what HAD occurred. Lyri smirked at the candid nature of the woman; while she may not share as openly, she did have an appreciation for the utmost honesty in the warrior's every move... Once, of course, she got over the fact that the first time they had met was in Leliana's quarters, and the blonde had been extremely naked and rather preoccupied with her spymistress and diplomat. There was one place in Skyhold Ilyria had been pointedly avoiding. While Inquisitor Ariadne Trevelyan spoke highly of her garden, and Cullen confirmed that it was quite lovely, the mage held back from visiting the place for the week. Several excuses came to mind regarding why, each flimsier than the last. It was towards the beginning of the new week that Ilyria realized she could not avoid the certainty that she would eventually have to have the reunion that awaited her and Alistair, and like replacing an early bandage it was best to hurry up and handle the pain accompanying the action.

So it was that Ilyria and Alistair stood at the garden entrance, gazes focused not at any of the plants but on two of the constant occupants...

Activity in the garden seemed to still as Lyri caught sight of the boy. His hair was darker than she'd imagined, and the way he held himself while he investigated one of the plants was very much possessed of the elegance of his mother; yet when he turned, trying to find the cause of the day's disturbance, his eyes were very much the same as Alistair. Ilyria had to squeeze her hands tight at the thought, realizing how similar Kieran was to his father in the face. The rest, though, seemed very much contrived by the woman who bore him. It was an interesting juxtaposition.

Morrigan was glowering in their direction. From beside her, Ilyria heard Alistair raise his hand in greeting. It was a credit to his newly honed people skills that he did not grimace or call a name; instead, he simply stated, "Hello," as he stepped further into the clearing near the gazebo gracing the center of the garden.

Kieran looked up at the duo entering the room with utter confusion. Morrigan herself was frozen almost stock-still as her son bounded right up to Alistair and Ilyria with a demanding question: "Who are you?"

It was amusing that Alistair was the first to recover, kneeling down to the boy's level and very confidentially answering, "We're friends of your mother. My name is Alistair, and this is Lyri."

Kieran looked the older man in the eyes skeptically. "Mother has friends?" he asked, managing to get an uncensored chuckle from Amell even as Alistair struggled to keep a grin off his face. Morrigan for her part scowled, a light click of her tongue the only give-away that she had heard the boy.

"Alistair might find your collection of figures interesting, Kieran," the witch suggested as she considered Ilyria's expression which was cautiously bland. "Why don't you show it to him?"

Alistair smiled widely. "You have figures?" Kieran nodded slowly, unsure. "Do you have a favorite?"

Thinking a minute, the boy nodded. "Mister Varric brought me a golem once."

Alistair brightened even further. "I had a golem figurine too! But mine broke years ago."

Kieran looked at the older man skeptically. "Aren't you a bit old to have one?"

"You're never too old for golems, I say."

Kieran nodded, seeing the wisdom and taking the King by the hand to show him the collection, suddenly bubbling excitedly at sharing. "I also have a dragon..."

Lyri watched the two wander out, shaking her head as she realized they had a very similar gait as well. Morrigan's eyes followed as well, likely noting the same before she returned focus to the Warden Commander and cleared her throat in a show of slight nerves. Ilyria considered her options before taking a deep breath, closing the gap between them and reaching an arm up tentatively. When the Witch didn't balk, she raised it to her friend's shoulder and clasped firmly.

"I did try to see you sooner," Ilyria noted simply.

"I... was unsure as to how a reunion between us might go."

Ilyria lost the fight against a scoff that tickled the back of her throat. "You were afraid that.. what, exactly? I might- disapprove? That was never MY area, Morrigan." When the Witch shuffled anxiously, Lyri smiled to break the uncertainty. "We were friends. At least I imagined we were. Was I that much mistaken?"

Morrigan lowered her head. "After that night I was uncomfortable facing you."

"What? Was Alistair so horrible that you wanted to disassociate with me to spite us both?" The amused timber completely took any venom from the question, making it fully rhetorical. Morrigan snortled only to catch herself before making it into a full laugh. "I take it not so much the case," Lyri noted.

"Not as much," Morrigan admitted. "I am glad that you are not bothered by my history with what is rightfully yours. Know I took no pleasure in the matter."

"That's a shame if it's true. His heart really mustn't have been in it then."

"No hard feelings then?" Morrigan seemed genuinely surprised, even as much as she was relieved when Lyri shook her head emphatically.

The two women sat down on the bench beside each other, and with the uneasy part of their conversation behind them they fell into an easy discussion to catch up on the last decade since they had seen each other. They were easily commiserating on courtly life and annoyance at the intrigue involved for a while, the garden coming to life around them as the afternoon descended. It was nearly midday and they had been chatting for two hours when the one sore subject came up...

"So it is not for lack of trying, then?"

Ilyria sighed, shaking her head. "Apparently, two Wardens together do not make a successor. It has been mentioned as cause for alarm by much of the realm."

Morrigan nodded. "Were there a method I could pass to you I gladly would, but..." Morrigan stalled in her apology, seeing the pain in her friend's eyes. "You thought I did?"

"Hoped is all," Lyri corrected. "I had not pinned any dreams on you, my friend."

"The method I used only worked for myself, else I would have given it to you."

"I imagined so," Lyri admitted. "I didn't imagine you would have done what you did if there was an alternative."

"I... will not say otherwise." The distaste on Morrigan's face spoke volumes, and Ilyria burst into another fit of laughter that ended only when Alistair and Kieran returned, the younger running forward excitedly.

"Mother, did you know your friend FOUGHT a dragon? Just like Miss Ari!"

"Indeed. I was beside him, keeping him from passing out while the creature tore him to ribbons."

"Really?!?!"

Ilyria nodded. "I remember. Miss Leliana was there, too. That was not our best moment, but... well, the creature DID die."

"Was it as big as the castle? Miss Ari said they get that large, and bigger!"

Ilyria nodded emphatically, peering up to see the Inquisitor entering the garden and waving. "Yes, much bigger," she agreed. "And you have to be careful, or they'll gobble you up whole."

Kieran nodded. "Miss Ari said that too."

"Miss Ari is a wise woman. Of course she and Ilyria know much about dragons," Morrigan noted. "Heed both of them well. And Alistair too, I suppose." Ilyria pursed her lips, watching as Kieran nodded his understanding of the request and Alistair looked at Morrigan with wide-eyed surprise that the Witch was actually showing him some respect. "What? You can run a country, I'm sure you can manage a small child when necessary."

"I... thank you."

"Don't thank me," Morrigan noted. "Just... never mind."

"Will you see me again tomorrow then, Alistair, sir?" Kieran asked excitedly.

"So long as it's alright with your mother. And you, Ilyria?"

Both women nodded, and Lyri sighed a bit in relief. Even if it wasn't exactly what was deserved, at least Alistair would finally get to know the son he had already fathered. It was... for now... enough.


	5. Chapter 5

Ilyria and Alistair were extremely up-front about their reasons for the visit to Skyhold. Ariadne Trevelyan as the Inquisitor was honorbound to ask them to reach over from their purpose, but completely understood their need to treat this as close to a vacation as they could. The fact that the King and the Hero of Fereldan were in the keep became common knowledge, but the two kept to Warden regalia so as to be imperceptible except to those in Ari's inner circle. It allowed the two some anonymity and ability to relax at their own pace, making it only too comfortable to linger at the bequest of many of the friends who they had made there. It also was nice to be away from the pressures of advisors and second-in-commands, and the needs of an ever-changing nation.

Being with Leliana and Morrigan brought back the old days, and when the spymistress was not needed the four spent their time taking over the top level of the main tower reminiscing. That was, of course, if Leliana was not otherwise indisposed with one (or more) of her lovers. The truth of her situation became more obvious and humorous as they went forward, Lyri joking with the bard about how she would put Zevran to shame considering she was part of a true quintet of eager female participants.

Ilyria and Alistair did, however, manage to create yet another benefit related to old ties during their time that was pleasantly unexpected. That was the multitude of hours spent with Commander Cullen Rutherford, planning their time as though it were completing important business. And it was- in part. Most of the time though was very different from what would have been expected of a King and commanders from two of the largest forces in southern Thedas once Lyri was formally asked to take control of the Wardens from Orlais as well as her own people.

This afternoon was a prime example. Alistair had stepped out to talk with the head of Trevelyan's preferred mercenary group, leaving Lyri to her own devices. She started by being productive, working on reporting schedules for the Orlesians now under her command, and HAD been going over them with the Inquisition's commander when quite suddenly she was instead found herself driven off-task by a simple sensation that something was off. Which led them to now, her sitting on the edge of Cullen's desk while the he sorted through papers distractedly. They had stalled the serious discussion nearly an hour ago and since then had been talking about the latest gossip from around the nation, and Ilyria was no closer to understanding her inkling that something had gone awry. She was looking at him intently while he was distracted, considering that perhaps her ability to read him was distant past, when she caught it. Subtle, masked- but there was her proof something was wrong.

His hand shook, just the tiniest bit.

"Cullen..." Ilyria started, reaching for the unsteady appendage. He pulled away quickly, looking up to meet her eyes as if begging her to drop the subject. Instead of pressing, Lyri changed tactics. "Do you remember in the Tower- it must have been about a week after Alistair... well, after the tournament. You were such as a mabari, and Enchanter Wynne pulled me- by the hair, mind you!- into your quarters with orders not to leave until you were- and I do quote this- 'quite well enough to move an inch without falling into a useless lump just like all the other boys in this place.' She seemed rather put out by you in particular."

Cullen chuckled, shaking his head at the memory. "That's because I vomited on her by accident. She wasn't too keen on helping me after that."

"Wynne? I'm surprised, considering she never batted an eyelash when all of us were bleeding in her knitting."

"She always seemed to have it out for me. I always wondered what happened to her... after."

"Last I heard she was on her way to Tevinter, though I imagine time has caught up with her since then," Lyri admitted, frowning. "I think she has a son somewhere, but... I wouldn't know how to find him, much less get in touch with him."

Cullen nodded in understanding, then sighed loudly as his demeanor changed. "I... you realize it wasn't just me getting sick back then, Lyri."

Ilyria's head turned, eyebrows lowering. "What do you mean?"

Softer, Cullen explained. "It was the lyrium."

Ilyria blinked as the realization fell. She reached out for his hand again, this time clasping it tightly. "Lyrium poisoning. Of course- it hadn't dawned on me that the first time Templars took lyrium the body would reject it! That's... Maker, that's horrifying, actually." Then, more tentatively, "But that would mean eventually... Cullen!"

Cullen nodded, not even bothering but to admit defeat in this matter. "There is a reason you rarely see old Templars. So I have... taken leave of the custom of taking lyrium."

Lyri squeezed his hand even harder, now understanding her sense that something was wrong more clearly. "It has been a while, I take it."

"About a year," he admitted. Then, quieter, "I had thought it would get easier. And it has but... well..."

"Some days are easier than others," Lyri noted in sympathy. "I can commiserate to a point, at least in that regard." With that, she pressed the hand to her lips softly. Cullen paused as if bracing, swallowing hard at her action.

"Amell..."

Ilyria very quickly dropped her hold and stood up straight as an arrow. "Shit. I'm sorry, Cullen. I didn't mean to."

"And I would never presume to betray Alistair's trust, especially now that we're just remaking our friendship."

Lyri was surprised to find her heart fluttered in disappointment at his response, even for as much as she understood. There had been a time, decades ago, when all three of them had been inseparable. Back then she was a quiet apprentice in the Circle, considered a low risk in spite of her talent as she rarely cast even in the most controlled circumstances. So long as she did not practice her magic, she had been given the unique freedom of being guarded by Templar recruits so long as they were two at a time... and no two recruits at that time had been more eager and willing to assist her in the odd hours she chose to study than Alistair and Cullen.

When men and women of impressionable age spend copious amounts of time together, things certainly do have a tendency of... well, just happening. Without rhyme or reason or need. And what had occurred between three friends when they were just beginning to understand what it meant to be sexual was oddly natural- at least for them, and at least at that time. That was before Alistair had left after the tournament, picked out by Duncan. Not even a year later Ilyria had followed, being recruited by the Warden Commander only seconds before Cullen was about to intervene on her behalf. Then the Tower had been taken over...

Cullen's last words to his best friends in Fereldan had been venomous and cruel. It was a quirk of friendship that both Alistair and Lyri had forgiven him, almost ignoring the angry rant he'd given at Kinloch Hold completely as out of character. And it had been- even if it took many years to admit it to anyone. The person to hear it had been Alistair, on an official visit to Kirkwall, but Cullen had been so busy at the time covering for Knight-Commander Meredith's insanity that he had hardly been able to give the monarch of his homeland and former best friend time outside of an official capacity. By all accounts, Ilyria mused, he'd been rather on edge at that time before Cassandra brought him here.

That past only made her attraction more certain, but also worse for both of them right now.

Lyri backed away towards the door with a heavy blush. "I'm... Maker's Breath!" With that, Lyri rushed out the door, a hand drifting to her forehead as she pushed back the horror of what she had just done. This was more than a friendly embrace or a touch of kindness; she had responded to the same spark that had always flowed between herself and Cullen, the one so similar to what she felt for Alistair and did not dare betray. It had been so simple when they were younger in the Circle, but had insinuations now that she hadn't thought about in years.

Lyri was looking over one of the battlements when Alistair approached her. He silently rested his chin in her shoulder and wrapped his arm around her waist, knowing as he always did when silence was preferable. Five minutes later he just whispered, "It's alright."

Lyri wondered if he would say the same if he knew what was wrong.


	6. Chapter 6

Alistair's memory was point perfect in many respects. When it came to the past in his days as a Templar recruit, those memories tended to be filled with moments he was not keen to look back on. A Chantry-raised boy he might be, but it was no secret amongst those who knew him that his piety was lacking in the discipline that sworn brothers would be expected to hold. Truthfully, he had always been surprised Cullen had chosen the route for himself seeng as how when they were there together the older man had always come across as respectful but not fully trustful of the exact teachings being forced on them.

Alistair had found a way out. It wasn't the smoothest route, mind you, but it was pleasant enough. Better than spending his life in a Tower watching while magic-users attempted to go about their lives. In the interim he had found a way to actually act on his love for Amell that was completely acceptable, and rule a kingdom besides that. For a bastard child forced into religious service, he had done well for himself...

That being said, there were some proclivities both men had hidden well behind them on the understanding that it was not considered appropriate in men who wee meant to be Maker-fearing, so had been pushed to the side. They might have shared more than a fascination with Lyri as well as each other, but it had remained unspoken- and when Alistair left it hadn't seemed to matter. After all, Warden life had been busy and left little time for romance until Amell had near literally fallen back into his life. When Cullen had rejected them both so thoroughly at Kinloch afterward, the two new Wardens had altered their focus to each other quickly. With how swiftly it all happened, Alistair had wondered about what may have occurred between the Mage and her Templar in the year he'd been gone; respect for her had kept him from asking before now, but considering the current situation he had to wonder if it might not be time to pry deeper.

Lyri was hiding in the Inquisitor's war room with Ariadne Trevelyan, the two having locked the door and tasked Leliana with ensuring it remained closed until the duo figured out how to deal with what Lyri would only describe to her lover as "a colossal fuck up in Weishaupt." Whatever that meant, it left him with an afternoon to think and begin a research plan he had been considering. Figuring there was no time like the present, Alistair quite definitively headed to the front tower and knocked on the half-open door to Cullen's office. His fellow former Templar called a dreary admittance, and Alistair stepped in to see Cullen actually peer up with a smile.

"Alistair. How can I be of service?"

"I've had a serious lack of worthy opponents for a while. Wondered if you'd be game for a round."

Cullen smiled. "I can't cite the same issue myself, but if you fancy a challenge I'm up for it. We can have the Iron Bull referee if you'd like."

Alistair shook his head. Not for what he was planning. "Maybe next time. I'm trying to figure out if my men are going soft on me is all."

"Probably just don't want to show up their King."

Alistair nodded, hiding the mirth behind his eyes. Cullen couldn't possibly know or suspect that Alistair had kept up on his abilities well enough, and knew his strength. Yes Fereldan men were light against their monarch; Grey Wardens much less so against a fellow, meaning he had a fair chance to put himself against the best warriors in the land. Except, perhaps, the Inquisitor's forces.

The two warriors arrived together at the training yard, stretching out and prepaying swords for the fight. With Cullen entering the ring, a handful of the Inquisition's forces gathered around to watch as their commander prepared to engage the 'unknown' Warden. The duo clasped arms in a sign of solidarity, a promise that the exercise would remain friendly, then separated to begin their battle.

Alistair knew he was slightly out of practice when it came up swordplay. His last worthwhile opponent had been Sten, and the qunari warrior had been a while back. His usual opponent was Lyri, so he was fully confident against any mage, but a Templar was a different matter entirely. Cullen however had been practicing against the Inquisitor, and Ariadne Trevelyan was a force in her own right as a warrior. The woman was frightening, a reaver of no small quality who owned any battlefield she stepped on. With such an opponent as a normal occurrence, Cullen's victory should have been almost assured.

Alistair had a plan, however.

A small crowd had gathered, starting to watch their commander engaging in an exercise with the 'unknown Warden' who had been around for several weeks, by the time Alistair had really gotten warmed up. The feel of solid weight pressing against his shield was a familiar if old sensation, and he welcomed every onslaught from Cullen as a brother-in-arms. He had gotten very comfortable with the defensive position, peering out and calculating his odds of going in for the next attack on his own, before he even considered putting his plan into action.

Just as Cullen pressed another attack, Alistair blurted out, "I was wondering how you were getting on with Lyri."

"Getting on?"

Alistair smirked, pressing an advantage from Cullen's momentary distraction. "She just seemed upset after your last discussion. Is something wrong?" Alistair lunged forward, raising his shield as the other former Templar found his head and swung back.

"Did she?"

Cullen seemed slightly shaken by the thought, allowing himself to be pushed almost to the edge of the training circle. Alistair's sword flashed again swiftly as he followed through on his advantage, only to find Cullen was swifter than anticipated and was already moving away from the blow. The King inwardly chuckled at his plan as he continued. "I think she was smitten with you."

"I didn't... I would never..."

"Are you telling me you never thought about it? After..?"

Cullen's blush spoke volumes his voice refused. The Commander did, however, manage to regain enough composure to attack and push Alistair to the sand. It had, apparently, been far too long. The monarch deftly rolled to the side, avoiding any further shove into his personage, and pulled up to one knee. He raised the shield just in time to hear Cullen's blade strike it with a rather strong force and smiled. Whatever the answer, it had gotten his friend heated and ensured the exchange would be invigorating.

"I wouldn't dream of approaching her. Not anymore. She is yours, friend." Cullen was kind enough to omit the name of his opponent, though it was likely many in the crowd at least suspected Alistair's identity. It was oddly sweet and sincere of the Commander actually...

Nevertheless, there was a pseudo-maniacal plot to enact.

"But she wasn't always," Alistair pointed out. "Was she?"

Cullen's breathing became off. All Templars were taught calm under pressure and how to time their inhalation a with the strikes, but it was surprisingly easy to set even the best off-kilter. Alistair observed the moment though, cocking his head as he moved quickly for his next strike.

It wasn't quite fast enough. Cullen managed to avoid it, and after several more minutes finally brought Alistair to the point of acquiescence. The King was not displeased with the result however, having already completed his main goal...

As the duo cleaned up, the small crowd having dispersed, Alistair looked directly at his opponent. "It was a good fight," he admitted. "We are near evenly matched."

Cullen nodded his agreement as he brushed the dirt off. "So it would seem."

"I seem to recall a time in the Circle when Ilyria said the same." He caught a flinch as Cullen shrugged off another piece of armor. "I always did wonder... I mean, I left almost a year before Lyri, and the three of us were... close. Did you two..?"

Cullen stammered, a hand rising to the back of his neck, but the answer wouldn't come out. Not immediately. "We never expected to see you again, and it felt natural..."

"Cullen." Alistair stopped what promised to be an embarrassed, unending rant. "If you and Amell were intimate, it's alright. Just say so."

Cullen caught his breath, lowered his arm, and nodded. "It felt like it was just us. Until I took the vows two months after you left we were- together. Umm... often."

Alistair found himself unable to avoid a smile as he moved closer, eyes flitting to ensure nobody was currently watching. He put a hand on Culken's shoulder, leaning in close to whisper into the other man's eat with a heady, "I knew."

The instant heat between the men was palpable. While they had not entertained each other during their time as Templars as such, there had been times when they had shared Ilyria's attentions and eyes had definitely met over the lusty mage's efforts. There was no ignoring that they were both then and now rather well-built, good looking men worthy of interest both from others and each other. Cullen's back straightened as he realized he was responding so readily to another man's attention.

"Alistair, I... I can't."

"Whyever not?"

"It would be hurtful."

"To who? Lyri?"

"Yes!"

The former Templar's outburst got Alistair to laugh. "Al, I hate to break it to you, but it won't surprise Lyri. I mean- we did... You know. Unlikely it would phase her anyway."

Cullen squirmed, hand sliding into its position at the back of his head. "I... Well... I guess you're right."

A quick look around the area confirmed they were alone. Alistair took the initiative once more and leaned in, whispering in a slightly sultry tone, "I never forgot, you know."

"Neither did I."

The next part of the moment passed in silence until Cullen cleared his throat and straightened with a soft mumble about things he needed to get done in his office. Alistair smiled with a gentle, understanding nod. "I won't keep you," he promised, smirking.

The two had gotten about twenty paces from each other when a thought hit Cullen and he stopped. "Alistair?"

"Yes, Cullen?"

"Lyri already told you we were... together after you left, didn't she?"

Alistair shrugged, but there was an unmistakeable glimmer in his expression that spoke volumes. Cullen shook his head at the other man's arctics and attempted to shove them off, but couldn't help the memories that kept flooding back as he walked to his desk. Moments when he had been at his happiest, with not only two best friends and purpose, but a secret worth keeping- and risking everything to hold close. Stolen moments in the corner of the library, lips pressed against one or the other's mouth; impromptu picnics created from 'training sessions' near to the Hold. Even several nights in the most darkened hallway, giving in to urges that were only natural...

"Commander?" The hesitant voice at his closed door forced Cullen from his reverie, a blink washing away the nostalgia.

"Yes. Please, come in." And with that, he pushed the thoughts aside and went back to work.


	7. Chapter 7

Ilyria Amell was tense when she finished meeting with Ari about the situation regarding Hawke in Weisshaupt. The First Warden had made a grave mistake, forcing the plucky rogue to join the Order rather than admit information from an outsider. Lyri was fuming angrily, matching Kirkwall's ire at what had been done to Serah. It was frightening, and her heart was thumping in her ears even now. Crashing on the bed, she sighed loudly and rubbed her eyes. Moments later she heard the door open and couldn't help the smile that popped into her face.

"Long day?"

"You..." Ilyria paused, chuckling. "I was actually about to say you have no idea but then I realized I made you a monarch. You are rather familiar with this sort of frustration." She sighed happily as Alistair shed the heaviest of his clothing and joined her on the bed, gesturing for her to turn to her stomach. She obliged, grumbling a bit. "They conscripted Serah Hawke. "

"The Champion of Kirkwall?" Alistair asked, stunned a second before he pulled out of the disbelief and began to massage the middle of Lyri's back.

The mage practically purred, burying her face in the pillow so that her next comment of, "The very same," was partially inaudible. Noting the issue, she lifted her chin and continued, "I'm not sure if they were being idiots, desperate, or actually wanted to start a riot in the Free Marches."

Alistair pulled off a bratty tone very easily as he suggested. "All three maybe? I like all three. Besides, I could see Weisshaupt having an idiotic desperation to start a riot over Serah Hawke."

Ilyria humphed, her assent disappearing into her pillow as she banished the sigh threatening her. When Alistair first took the throne in Fereldan, the First Warden had apparently thought that meant the Wardens had taken power and wrote to both he and Lyri. Ilyria had been fuming even as Alistair sent a scathingly humorous response to indicate that he had as much, if not more, loyalty to his country than to an old and almost defunct Order. The main acquiescence to the Wardens even now outside of gifting Amaranthine was that many prisoners facing execution of life sentences were given the option of joining Ilyria's Wardens to swell numbers since the Blight. It was a successful decision that had appeased the First Warden enough to silence their protests.

Serah Hawke must have been perceived as a threat somehow, though how an individual notorious for being a plucky rogue could be dangerous enough to force conscription was beyond Lyri. What she was very aware of, however, was how it would look to Kirkwall. The city had been holding out hope that Hawke would return to take over as Viscount, a possibility now ruined by the need to pledge to the Wardens. They were already furious beforehand. Ilyria really didn't want to have to deal with something else being blown up, this time in the name of the Wardens instead of the Chantry. With a groan, she realized the truth: she was going to have to go to Kirkwall.

"Alistair, I..."

"Hush, love," Alistair instructed. "Calm down now, travel plans later."

Ilyria's mouth started to open, but she let it shut quickly. Of course he had known what had to happen next; he had gotten as used to the turbulent obligations and needs of their positions just as she had. It wasn't a conversation for this moment though. For now, as in most of their visit, this was time to just be a man and a woman madly in love. Thankfully until today real life hadn't intruded terribly much, meaning this was a definite sign it was time to move along. Unhappy with that thought, Lyri reached up and grabbed for Alistair, who responded by helping her roll to her back and pressing her to the pillow in a hard, longing kiss that lasted several minutes. Amell found her arms reaching up, wrapping around his neck even as her legs did a similar movement with his waist and he began to trail down to her neck.

Before stopping. Abruptly.

Lyri blinked, a whisper to her lips as she asked, "Is everything alright, Alistair?" The response she received was him moving to look in her eyes, one of his rare serious expressions gracing his face. Lyri's stomach flipped slightly at the visual, considering she usually did not want to know what came after that. Yet she also needed to, in order to have an understanding of her partner. Pushing fear aside, she asked, "What's wrong, love?"

Alistair's head cocked to the side as he took a deep breath. "Actually, I've been thinking. About us- about... what we need to do. For Fereldan that is." When Lyri tensed up, he reached out for her cheek to soothe her. "And also... About Cullen."

Ilyria felt her chest seize up. "What about Cullen? How does he fit into this?" she asked, hoping her voice disguised her discomfort on the subject.

It didn't. Suddenly very concerned, Alistair pulled into a sitting position away from the mage woman and color flushed his cheeks. "We don't have to talk about it," he immediately offered, "but it seemed to me to bear discourse. You mentioned in the past that part of the problem with you becoming pregnant may well be that we BOTH carrying the Taint, and I am grudgingly going to admit you are right. On the other hand, I have been told by my advisors that regardless of who she is, I will need to make any woman I say is carrying my child queen." Ilyria sighed, about to speak when Alistair continued, "But I could make a claim if I have sufficient reason to believe it possible."

Lyri bolted upright. "What?"

Alistair snickered. "It wouldn't really be any different from what we did before, you know. Before I left Kinloch."

Lyri's eyes hazed as she thought of those days, the hours spent in the library in the window perch looking over the lake- the stolen, secret picnics in the courtyard... and the late night rendezvous, the three of them all enjoying the pleasure of the moment. She missed it of course but had been sure those times were far behind them. She found herself daydreaming for an instant before shoving the thoughts out of her head, shaking it out of the area as she met Alistair's questioning gaze. It looked halfway between a quizzical child and an apologetic mabari, unsure of which was more appropriate for the moment. Ilyria cleared her throat, shifting until she was released and able to stand up from the bed and walk to the window. She looked out at the view of the gardens they were afforded, heart pounding in her ears. "Huh," was as much of a verbal cue as she could muster.

"If it makes you uncomfortable we never have to discuss it again," Alistair assured. "I just thought it might be pertinent considering he still cares for you."

Lyri shook her head again, but found her eyes sliding over the garden wall to the tower beyond that signified where Cullen kept his residence. "You're wrong," she breathed. "What I had with Cullen was... fleeting."

Alistair actually let a snortle leave his mouth. "Lyri, I know Cullen. He doesn't really do fleeting any more than I do."

The realization that Alistair was right dried Ilyria's mouth soundly. Both of her men had always been highly passionate in more than simple deed. Cullen had even pledged himself by his words, she remembered fondly, stating how sure he was that his place would always be at her side. They had even discussed using the Chantry's transfer system for for their benefit, finding a more willing post to remain together. A part of both their hearts had realized it was little more than a pretty dream or fantasy, but it was enough to remind Amell of just how dedicated he had been. Before the demons, before the blood magic, he had been hers alone. She had missed his touches and kindness when they were removed, and if had been hard to travel with Duncan knowing she would never have that again...

It was seeing Aistair again that had given her hope. When Cullen completely rejected her a few months later out of abject fear, it was Alistair who was willing to put the pieces back together. Neither of them felt he meant it from their past experience, but it didn't make it hurt any less at the time. Lyri remembered crying in her tent, blocking the sound until Alistair silently entered without warning and wrapped her up in his arms. It was a wall that had been shattered between them.

But there was always a part that missed Cullen.

"It was so long ago..." Lyri mused.

Alistair walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "I know. It seems like we've been together for a lifetime, but I can never forget how we started. Really started, that is."

Ilyria took a deep breath and asked, "It's also been over a decade since there's been anyone but each other," she pointed out. "Are you certain you are comfortable with this?"

Alistair shrugged, his hands raising to grasp her shoulders and squeezing tight as he pulled her close. "Do you remember how things started with the three of us?"

Ilyria could never help the smile that came across her face. "You were such a bumbler that they threw you at me to ask if I could magic away the bruises. I think they meant for me to eliminate the awkwardness..." She chuckled, pressing her nose to his and whispering, "If only they saw you now. Hero- King..."

"Still bumbling," he pointed out.

"Still bumbling," Lyri admitted, "but so regal about it."

"Ha. Ha. Ha." The light mockery in Alistair's voice was thick, palpable, and Lyri chuckled in spite of the serious of their real discussion. Because for them, love was like that. Then she heard his throat clear and his tone lower to add, "If you truly have a problem with the concept we will never address it again. Maker knows I would possibly give pause were it anyone else in Thedas, but... we know Cullen." Quieter, into her ear, he continued: "We both have loved him, and quite possibly still do."

It was the honesty in combination with his admittance that melted Lyri's uncertainty away. Taking a deep breath, she buried her head in Alistair's chest. "Do you really think this has a chance?"

"I would never have suggested it otherwise."

In theory it made sense. If they removed one side of the Taint, it should be feasible to have a child. The timing was near perfect, and she had been taking her herbs diligently...

"You really want to try this." The disbelief had exited now, nervousness taking over. Alistair was just nodding, a glimmer in his eye she knew all too well. "If Cullen is willing, I think... I think it is worth the attempt."

"I'll speak with him." There was a joy in Alistair's voice that touched Lyri, and it felt like there was shift in the air- even if nothing had really changed- that meant they were on their path. She had almost forgotten the feeling from the past years, but it was keen now, and any lingering uncertainty evaporated as her lover took her in his arms again and with a single kiss pressed her back towards the comfort of their shared bed once more, this time with his hands busily unfastening her clothing to leave little doubt in his intentions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Considering a rating change, and would appreciate feedback. Does anyone want the main upcoming scene to be adult in nature, or keep to the subject at hand? I will probably remain vague- unless I hear a request otherwise- but would love an opinion or two.
> 
> Thank you!!


	8. At Long Last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I and SOOO sorry!  
> Life grabbed me and ran, but I have not forgotten! I will be posting in this and my other work alternately and ensure they are complete.  
> As an apology, NEXT chapter will have a lot of heat...  
> Fair?

Ilyria Amell stretched her arms out, her shoulders and neck cracking gloriously as she stepped outside into the halls of Skyhold. The previous night had been reinvigorating and as she took deep breaths she felt the best of memories flooding, smiling widely. Alistair had left early that morning to begin exercises and preparation for retraining some of the Grey Wardens that had taken hold in these mountains, but the warmth of his presence lingered in the bed as she had gone over her notes there.

Now, however, it was time for more pressing matters. They had made a decision after all, and it was her prerogative to act on it.

Lyri slowly walked across the small bridge to Cullen's office tower, shutting the door behind her and rushing to the desk where Cullen was already hard at work. He looked up at her with a questioning gaze as she leaned over his desk. His cheeks burned red when his eyes fell for one (well, two) very important reason(s). Ilyria shuffles a bit, making her breasts shimmy ever so slightly in her tight-fitting bodice.

"I am... that is... something bothering you, Lyri?"

Ilyria Amell grinned widely, almost ferally. Predatory. "Bothering, Cullen? Why would there be a bother?"

The former Templar's eyes kept at his visitor's bosom. "I..." He gulped, a hand settling behind his neck. "I suppose... no reason, really..."

Ilyria fought back her snicker as she raised her arms, puffing her chest out far. Cullen quickly looked away, but then his eye strayed back to her. That made up her mind rapidly. A strand of hair wound around her pinky as she winked slyly. "My dear Commander, do I fluster you?"

His voice was weak, quiet, as he responded, "Mayhaps."

The demure, uncomfortable silence that followed was ripe. Lyri took a deep breath and slowly let it out as Cullen flipped a page and attempted to ignore the pregnant pause. It was quite suddenly filled with Ilyria crashing down upon Cullen's desk. She wrapped her arms around his neck with a vigor, and her legs around his waist as she scooted up closer to his sudden stammering. "However should we resolve this issue?"

Cullen's boldness returned for just a moment, his arms curling around the woman. His lips met hers, the sensation of her mouth opening causing a very familiar haze. His tongue found the opening, marveling at the softness of her and the scent. The form was much matured from her youth, more lithe and strong, more flexible to his touch. She shifted under his fingers, the touch of her soft hair gentle against his skin. She shivered and lightly whispered into his mouth, the barest whisper of his name in her voice...

"No."

Cullen's voice was heady but cool. Steady- dangerously so. It thrilled and pained her to hear. He pulled away, extricating himself from the mage's touch in a single movement. Ilyria was left with crossed knees on top of his desk; her robe's top slid down, open to reveal the edges of her breast. The skin was smooth and pale, cool even. She pulled it up gently, the edges of a frown pulling on her mouth. "Commander, might I have misunderstood something about our past?"

"What about the fact it is behind us?" he countered.

"It happened, Cullen," Ilyria pressed. "You- me- Alistair- we HAPPENED. And it wasn't just a false closeness."

"We were teenagers," Cullen reminded in a low tone. "Children almost..."

"No. We weren't, Cullen." She took a second, shaking her head. "Actually, yes we were, but that doesn't make it any less important to the past. It shaped us- did it not?"

Cullen's hand raised unsteadily as he neared her side, brushing a shimmer of red hair from her cheek. "It did," he admitted, "but it was in the past."

Lyri chose to allow tears to well up in her eyes, the glisten swelling as she met her former lover's gaze. "And if it could be again?" she whispered, a light breathiness in her voice.

Cullen isn't tentative now. He makes sure the doors and windows are shut and presses his lips firmly against her neck, pleased to elicit the same familiar gasp that kept him company in the lonely nights of his memories. Her arms are confining; they are raised, grasping for purchase against the wall he has unwittingly pressed her against in his passion. Her hips buck in a wave, cascading, her body in something of a writhe...

Just before he seemed to come to his senses and pull away. "Alistair-"

Ilyria felt a smile tug at her mouth and let it burst, a chuckle ringing in the air. "I can get him as well if you'd like."

The Commander's stammer was palpable, his stance relaxing in uncertainty. "That's not..." he paused, shuddering. "That isn't... I mean... no?" It came out as a question rather than a statement of certainty.

"He would support this you realize. Does support us, in fact. Would throw us together if he could."

"Surely that isn't..."

"Isn't what?" Ilyria challenged humorously. "True?"

"Necessary."

Ilyria chuckled. "Oh it was never necessary per se, just highly enjoyable." She let her tongue snake out, licking a lip hungrily. "I've never been able to forget those liaisons you know."

It took a full, quiet minute before Cullen responded. When he did it was remorseful, slow. "Neither," he admitted, "have I."

"Then what is wrong Cullen? I want this- you want this- unless I am very much misunderstanding."

The blonde hair has straightened in his elder years, Ilyria notices idly as he runs his fingers through trying to explain himself. "You're the Hero of Fereldan," he whispers. "Alistair is the King. I'm not even a speck in your world. Shouldn't be at least. To insert myself would be... unwise." The timber of his voice made the Warden's heart ache. He actually believed it.

Lyri came to him in a rush, hand raising to his cheek. "And you are the Commander of what may be the greatest force Thedas has ever seen," she reminded. "You are more than able to stand in our company." With a chuckle, she added, "Not like Alistair is one to put on airs after all."

"No. I suppose not..."

"And I would never presume to do so myself," Lyri continued, cautiously optimistic on seeing his eyes lift to meet hers. "I want this. WE want this."

"It still isn't right, Lyri..."

The answer was quiet, barely above a whisper, but it stopped him. "We need this, Cullen. Your homeland depends on it."

Cullen gave a look of confusion that paused Lyri in her tracks. She thought for a moment that they may be using him, but dismissed the idea behind memories of how well he fit with her. In a flash she decided to let him make up his own mind, to come clean with everything since she had first left him all those years ago, even if the confession hurt them both. He deserved to know, needed to know, everything if this was going to work between them. So when he said, "You have my attention," there was no more choice.

So Ilyria told him. She started with the most basic of truths. "I love Alistair." When he raised a hand in protest, she held up a finger. "I do. I love Alistair. But... what we shared was not a passing whimsy, Cullen. I have always loved you as well. Back in the Circle... when we three were together we're the happiest moments of my life. Even if it was forbidden at the time, even if it was ill-advised, it was also somehow pure. And I missed that. When we went back, once I was pulled into the Wardens, I had hoped that maybe we could request you join us personally. When it became apparent that all horror had broken loose I feared for you and sought only you. Even if you rejected me in the end, it didn't matter, because you were- relatively- safe."

"And I rejected you."

"No," Lyri clarified. "You rejected anything, being hurt. I understood that- as did Alistair. We clung to each other after that. Obviously." Her crass smile came then. "Only we have encountered a snag in our master plan."

"A snag?"

"Wardens take our powers from the Blight itself," Lyri explained. "It lets us sense darkspawn at some distance and lends us a special weapon when handling archdemons. Unfortunately it does come with a few very unsatisfactory side effects- vastly shortened life span, worst nightmares possible, slow Blight poisoning... and everything that entails." Arching her back and refusing to even look at Cullen for the moment, she took a deep breath and continued. "Because of that, Alistair and I have been unable to produce an heir to Fereldan's throne together. It has made life difficult to say the least."

Cullen's response was not what she had expected. Instead of asking questions he drew nearer, a hand to her cheek, his focus on the beginning of her rant. "I didn't realize..." he whispered. "THAT is what it means to be a Warden?"

Ilyria just nodded, belatedly remembering this was not known outside the Wardens at all. "Just a little thing kept in the ranks. I believe by most standards now that you know in supposed to kill you or something but the idea loses some luster when it's someone I care to keep near me. At any rate, the kicker at this point is that Alistair is the king of Fereldan and has picked me to bear his child. This is where it gets tricky..."

Cullen's cheeks flushed brightly. "So you mean..."

When he couldn't finish the sentence, Lyri took pity on him and helped. "Two Wardens seem unable to create a child. It was suggested that if we were to add a different element success may be more likely."

Now Cullen seemed bright enough to light a room with the glow in his face. "Oh," he whispered.

"Oh," Ilyria repeated.

"So it isn't about our feelings..."

"Of course it is, Cullen," she corrects. "Very much so. I have found I remain exceedingly fond of you. So does Alistair. It is as much about that as anything. That doesn't mean other forces aren't at play and I want to be as up front as possible."

"Alright." Cullen has a furrow on his brow, thoughtful, as he continues to ask, "Up front about what, precisely?"

Amell was never a soft-spoken individual, so her response of leaning into Cullen and capturing his mouth in a kiss was not entirely unexpected. The motion was fluid. Surprising. The former Templar started for a brief second before realizing what was happening and having to choose a response. He knew it was safer to turn away, to push her slightly and break the motion, but instead he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to deepen the action until they were both breathless. The top that showed the crest of her bosom had slipped slightly, one breast mostly exposed, and yet she made no movement to alter the malfunction.

When they did break away, she simply arched her back a bit and sighed comfortably. "That," she noted, "may explain what we are discussing."

Cullen could only nod his understanding of the situation, words having escaped. After what must have been a full minute he weakly managed to ask a single word: "Alistair?"

Ilyria smiled. "Would you join us for a private supper this evening, Commander?"

Cullen almost said no. He very nearly let the opportunity pass this time. Then he looked into her eyes, the same brilliant blue-green, the same adventure and wisdom he missed, and felt the tug at his heart. He may have tried to ignore it but he missed her. Deeply.

So what he says is "Yes. That sounds nice."

What he means is 'It's about time.'


	9. Mature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adult activities!

Alistair is the one who answers the door as soon as Cullen knocks. As in, before his hand hits wood a second time. The king is dressed rather casually, and Cullen imagines it to be similar to what the man must have worn while traveling during the Blight all those years ago. The younger man says nothing as he makes sure their guest actually chooses to enter, shutting the door behind them and taking a moment to bolt it. That action makes Cullen's brow raise.

"Just want to keep this quiet," Alistair explained. "Especially with sharp eyes around."

Cullen nodded in understanding just as another door opened from the back of the quarters. Ilyria entered with a sweep and a smile, settling almost immediately into an site of command. "Gentlemen. I do believe there is something to nibble on if you're so inclined." Her voice was light and playful, sultry- tempting. The way her pants hugged her hips, and the drape of the bright blue shirt that was obviously cut for a larger individual, added to an interesting ambiance for the evening. She swayed over, arms wrapping around Alistair's neck. "I'm sure you're both fairly... hungry?"

Cullen suppressed a chuckle as he added, "With you around?"

Alistair was the one to sling his arms around the blonde's neck, pressing a kiss to the spot at the back. It was agitated with the scratching the older man did when nervous, sensitive to the light touch of another's lips. "What about me?" Alistair whispered heavily into his fellow's ear. "Am I not distracting enough?"

Cullen made a sound between a hiss and a growl, spinning swiftly and pressing needy lips against the other man's mouth. Alistair pulled him in closer forcefully, continuing the embrace until both were breathless from the exertion. It was Lyri's throat clearing in a strange combination both contentment and frustration.

"Much as I appreciate the display," the mage informed the former Templars, "I did make some food for dinner."

The quarters where Alistair and Ilyria had been put up for their extended stay had little opulence, being obviously an offshoot of the area Leliana had set aside for her personal agents, but as such it came with one bonus: personal living space. For when you could not or did not wish to mingle with others, there was a small living area and even a fair sized central kitchen. It was there Lyri had spent a few hours practicing a thing which had become a hobby since her traveling days. As a mage she had made all manner of potions; now she instead had taken to cooking. Meats mostly- traditional Fereldan fare- but sometimes she delved into more exciting ventures. Tonight she had found a way to encounter a northern spice rack and found something with more kick to season a bit of lamb for example. It smelled mouth-watering when she led the men into the kitchen...

Only to find herself pressed against the wall rather unexpectedly.

A hand reached under her top, rubbing the edge of a breast and making the mage gasp. She heard a surprised chortle not far off, calming her nerves and enjoying the sensation. Her nipple hardened at the ministration, enjoying the hand, and when he was done she sighed in disappointment.

"Food sounds wonderful," Cullen chuckled, smiling as he pressed against her again.

"Uh-huh." Ilyria murmured unintelligibly as she walked to the table. Alistair chuckled and pulled her chair out, unable to stop smiling as he pushed it back in and settled into his own seat for the meal.

The trio ate quickly. The fact that the food was good had little to do with the rapidity of the actions, though it was very well prepared. Instead it had to do with the female diner taking every moment possible to murmur over her meal, letting her tongue dart out to lick her lips at odd increments that set both of the others on fire. Before long the meat and accompanying vegetables were done, plates were cleaned, and it was time to move on with the evening.

Which brought the trio to a sitting room with a large, comfortable chair and a settee designed for two.

"So," Alistair started, breaking the ice of the conversation to occur.

"So," Ilyria mirrored.

"I'm not sure..." Cullen hesitated. "Is this... right?"

"Is what right, Cullen?"

"What we're discussing," he clarifies. "What we seem about to do..."

"Do you still care for me?" Ilyria interrupted calmly.

"Intimately." The admission is quiet, like a prayer almost.

"Then it's right." That one was Alistair butting in, settling in to the single chair. This left Lyri and Cullen on the larger item of furniture, so close their knees couldn't help but touch. Cullen used this to his advantage, placing a hand on hers and squeezing as it drifted further towards her inner thigh.

"In that case, Lyri..." He pauses only a moment, giving the mage time to thrill at the trill of her name on his tongue, the lyricism of his ever so slight accenting of the consonants that make up each part. Then his hands are on her in earnest, stroking the cloth covering the soft skin of her upper leg and rising inch by inch agonizingly slowly. Cullen is not like Alistair, ruled by the emotions and playful; he is methodical, tactical. As if he wants her to beg...

Ilyria does just that, her voice responding with pleas she doesn't quite remember or care to dwell upon. All she knows is that she feels Cullen's fingers finally rise to the buttons. She mewls again, feels him hesitate.

"Please," Alistair offers. "Be our guest."

Cullen chuckled as his hands went back to the waist of Lyri's pants, undoing the buttons quickly then moving slowly to caress around her waist. It felt good, more methodical yet erotic from Alistair, and the mage could not say she did not enjoy the sensation. Her body remembered just how to respond to him. Her hand darted to his ear, lightly teasing, only to see him freeze up like never before. "Cullen?" she asked, concern in his name.

"Just... not there," he asked. "I'm sorry."

Ilyria nodded in understanding, moving her attention to his neck. Here he still purred as she remembered, his gasp echoing in her ears like a triumph. She shared a glimpse with Alistair; the monarch just nodded slowly, stretching his neck to enjoy what was sure to be a great show. Ilyria grinned and let her fingers deftly move to Cullen's crotch, eager not to disappoint any partner tonight.

Cullen was obliging. He shifted slightly, letting the pants and underthings fall down enough to expose what to Lyri seemed a great prize. Her tongue darted to kiss the corner of her lip at seeing his cock bare before her, her hips subconsciously rolling in anticipation. She dropped to her knees before him, looking up from there with the light of request in her eyes. Cullen looked across to Alistair and the pair nodded in tandem; Ilyria could hear the tell-tale sounds of her usual partner dropping his own bottoms to begin enjoying what was sure to be a grand show.

Lyri began by gripping the base of the gradually growing appendage, pulsing her palm gently. She heard Cullen hiss softly at the warm magic in her hand, not in fear of pain but appreciation. Her other hand began to stroke up and down in a steadily growing rhythm, her mind fogging at the same speed...

Cullen responded in a very different way from Alistair, yet the dance was the same Lyri remembered from years past. His sound was still the same, the feel of the smooth skin of the shaft on her tongue all too familiar. It brought back the most pleasant of memories as if she was back in the Circle, having spirited herself away for a few hours in a hidden place with one or both of her favorite Templar trainees.

It was only a slight surprise to feel another set of hands behind her, undoing the belt of her own trousers and sliding it off in a quick swoop.

"Is swooping still bad?" Alistair whispered in her ear softly with a chuckle, but as her bottoms were removed to reveal her bare skin he was stroking her ever so gently. The sensation was not overtly sexual but erotic, causing her to moan in spite of her very full mouth. The sensation of her utterance seemed to ignite something in Cullen, and the cock twitched- his motions growing faster still.

Cullen was thrusting fast, and soon Ilyria found her head reeling as Alistair's fingers worked to widen her. She could hear him pleasing himself at the same time, and murmured at the expectation of more. Quite suddenly she found her mind dragged back to the ground as her normal lover did something less expected- his fingers, slick with her own juices, moved to the OTHER hole back there, apparently sharing a motion with Cullen that caused his motions in her mouth to end.

Which is also the reason, the mage posited, why she was so suddenly pushed harder into Alistair's erect appendage and into a more sitting position only to have Cullen pull her folds open and press himself into the aching muscles between the lips.

Being ridden by the two men brought back memories of her life in the Circle at Kinloch Hold, and the tensing in her body was phenomenal. By simple reaction Lyri's body began writhing at the double penetration; her breathing began to slow, her heartbeat quickening, until quite suddenly her body could not help but shudder at the attentions. She felt her orgasm shake her body, the start of a chain reaction. As she came, her muscles contracting hard, Cullen joined in a robust cry that spoke to his long it had been since this kind of release. The pulse of the other two set Alistair off, his prick barely exiting before spraying on her robust posterior.

As Lyri fell back into Alistair's arms, she felt his hands sliding up her body sensually. "Good start?" he asked, his voice playful in her ear.

Lyri purred in response, amused by the tension of Cullen's body in hearing Alistair's comment. "Start?" the commander asked.

"Oh yes," Alistair promised. "There is so much more to go."


	10. Preparing

"Hush, Cullen," the gentle voice cooed quietly. "It's only a bad dream."

The former Templar was surprised to find he did not wake with a start, though still with a suddenness that came from a light touch by his ear. Before even opening his eyes he grabbed for the hand there, finding it both familiar and slender though more weathered than in his memory. He blinked fully aware, finding my himself curled on an extremely comfortable mattress with a companion- an almost unheard of occurrence. A few breaths allowed Cullen to come back to his wits and address the woman who rested at his side.

"Sorry Lyri."

Ilyria nodded slowly, then turned to her other side. Cullen peered over to see she was stroking Alistair's hair as the skin around his eyes twitched. The Warden King took a deep breath and the movement slowed, just as Ilyria was noting, "Never an issue, Cullen."

Cullen could only nod his understanding, rising to stretch and dress again. His clothing was not far, luckily, and he found the rote act of getting dressed brought him more back to himself- though it was more about keeping a common occurrence than from any lingering discomfort for once. That was different and difficult to explain.

Something was at ease around his two oldest friends, as though nothing had ever changed.

By the time Cullen was prepared, he noticed Ilyria was pulling her hair up into a braided bun and Alistair seemed to be waking up. He took a moment to watch them both, especially when the King bent to assist and pin a few locks into proper place for his female partner. It was amazingly domestic, making something in his chest ache ever so slightly...

"Do you think..." Ilyria's breath caught in her throats a moment before continuing, turning to look back at Alistair. "Might you be able to join me?" she asked, quieter, a hand brushing her companion's own. When the monarch shook his head, her face lowered and the smile playing at her lips dimmed.

His pretty amber eyes (where had that thought come from?) fell before Alistair replied, "The northern lords will be arriving in a few weeks." A hand squeezed her shoulder. "I don't think it will be that short, and neither do you."

Ilyria squeezed the hand at her shoulder but stood, resolute, to smile at her other visitor. "Shall we find some breakfast?" she asked, a slow motion to both former Templars.

Cullen nodded but felt compelled to ask, "Where do you have to head?"

"Kirkwall, sadly."

Cullen nodded thoughtfully, walking with the duo out the door and down to the breakfast tables. Along the way his mind wandered, considering the wealth of possibilities before him...

Which lead the Commander to an uncomfortable position an hour later.

"You want to go where again?" the Inquisitor asked incredulously.

"Kirkwall."

The Inquisitor's eyebrow lifted. "I do have a contingent going there for supplies," she conceded, "but I could swear you had mentioned never going to that Maker-forsaken city again. Or am I misremembering?"

"You remember correctly, Inquisitor."

"Then why in the Maker's name are you asking about a retinue heading there?"

Cullen's cheeks blushed slightly, his hand moving to scratch the back of his head reflexively and he stammered slightly. "Well... you see..."

"I believe," Leliana butt in, coming to wrap an arm around the Inquisitor's shoulders, "it has to do with Warden Amell's request to travel with our people." The red-headed spy mistress looked her other friend square on, failing to conceal her grin. "Or am I mistaken, Commander?"

Cullen shrugged. "Believe what you will." He fought the blush, the giveaways, but knew Leliana would already know the truth. "The question is..."

"The question is about whether I can spare my Commander for what amounts to a personal errand," the Inquisitor quipped tightly, letting silence fill the room as Cullen turned away in embarrassment. "Honestly, Rutherford, what are you thinking, running off with another man's woman."

The former Templar was glowing bright pink by now. "I thought she might take comfort in having a nearby friend," he indicated. "I... never mind. Forget I said anything."

"Cullen." The sudden softness in the Inquisitor's voice rang sweetly. "If Ilyria Amell will have you, and you deign to stay with her, we can spare you. You've more than earned the ability to choose your own assignment for once."

Cullen smiled and expressed his appreciation, wondering how to explain his willingness to take on this adventure with all his misgivings. Then he pictured Ilyria's face, smiling or in rest, and knew his answer was not far. It was tied up in both past and a hint he had, a possible future- a chance.


	11. Chapter 11

Ilyria kissed Alistair on his cheek, whispering a farewell in his ear as he started in his way. Unlike their arrival, the departure called for some fanfare as he was escorted by the usual personal guard and the addition of a group of Grey Wardens heading on their way to begin post-conscription training. The mage watched from a rampart a moment before turning to prepare her own traveling pack to head on with the Inquisitor's soldiers ready to visit Kirkwall.

"Nearly ready?"

Lyri turned to her unexpected companion with a slight smile. "Are... are you still sure about this, Cullen?"

Her response was for him to put a steady hand on her shoulder and squeeze, a reminder of the quiet strength he'd always shown when they were younger. She couldn't help but smile as the memories flooded back faster, more vivid after the reminder of the last few nights...

"I'm sure," he assured quietly as he guided her toward the stables. "We should get on our way."

The duo shared a preference for readying their own horses; while she may not be familiar with the Commander's reasoning, Lyri knew she herself had spent years growing the relationship between her and her mares, and would not have many hands beside hers putting the poor thing through the stress of setting for a long journey. Once that was done and she looked to Cullen where he completed the last touch on his own riding companion, she noticed he seemed at ease even more than she had seen before in their most intimate moments, and she understood at least a little.

"It's time," she stated gently, bringing the farm boy back to reality in the Commander.

Cullen nodded as he took the reigns for both beasts in hand, guiding them to the front of a traveling line as Lyri followed alongside. When they arrived it was already a full, loud grouping of soldiers and they happily took up a spot at the rear to prepare for the long trek out across Fereldan to the port.

The first day, and even evening, were uneventful. Same with the daylight hours the second, though Lyri was already fearing the evening. She'd taken watch for the middle part of the first evening, ensuring she wouldn't have enough consecutive hours for the nightmares to begin in force. This night though there was no such luxury, and as she drifted it began in fitful surges...

"Come to us." The whisper was not in a language she truly knew, but the intent was clear. "We will be your children if you will but become our mother."

Ilyria shuddered at the memories as she thought of the broodmothers, yet she still felt drawn to the promise. After all, she could always let her mind wander into the secret places until it became her reality- allow her to have what she wanted, needed, in the depths of her mind. Lyri felt her breath speed as she considered the implications, letting herself truly imagine the life she could build in her mind if only she listened to the song and let her 'children' help her...

"Lyri! Wake up, please?"

Startled by the voice, Ilyria jolted upright in her tent and opened her eyes to the dark. "What is it?" she asked quickly, eyes already adjusting and hand reaching for her staff.

"It was- Ilyria, don't you know or remember?"

Lyri took a deep breath. "Is forgotten this is not a Warden encampment," she sighed. Lowering her voice, she began. "Let me tell you all about something known as the Calling..."

Ilyria spared her new lover no details in his confusion. He'd known about the nightmares to a point, but now she gave him some of the secrets usually held sacrosanct by the Order in hopes of his understanding better what happened on the road. She detailed the fight in her mind carefully- and even, to a point, her own weakness. The full telling took just under an hour, ending with both curled up on her bedroll and him wide-eyed.

"So you're saying," Cullen sighed, "we aren't far from some darkspawn here."

"That too," Lyri mused.

"And they have this... hold over you?"

Ilyria found her neck feel unhinged, rolling her head back. "Me and every other Warden."

Cullen wrapped his arms around her tightly, leaning his head against her chest. "They can't have you," he whispered quietly. "Not you, not Alistair. You are mine, Maker take me. Mine."

Ilyria felt her back straighten in surprise, feeling suddenly stiff. Her arms found their way around the man in front of her as the shock melted little by little, lifting an edge of her blanket to dry his tears. "Cullen." She let his name slip softly, gentle. "Cullen, you are... can you..?"

"I love you."

Ilyria squeezed tightly back, feeling the air exit her lungs in a rush that did not actually happen. "Oh," she breathed gently. "Oh Maker."

"Not you- you, well I mean, you too, but... not just you, you- you as in..." At least the bluster made him forget the seriousness of the moment.

"Cullen." She brushed her lips against his cheek. "I love you as well."

He colored as he pressed into her form in the darkness. "What about Alistair?"

"Your love does not stop at me now, does it Cullen? It never used to do so."

"But..."

Ilyria just put a finger to his lips. "No," she whispered, leaning in what should be uncomfortably close, her breath on his mouth. "Let your heart and mind guide together."

Cullen took a deep breath and leaned in further, kissing the front of her neck. Lyri arched up and let the natural gasping of air escape her at the sensation. His touch melted her nightmare away as she found herself spiraling to pleasant thoughts, her head clouding happily...

"Ilyria?"

"Mhmm."

"Is this real?"

"It isn't... NOT real," she acquiesced.

Cullen nodded, curling around her in the afterglow of their contentment. He kissed her forehead, realizing that would be more than enough for him. At least for the foreseeable future.


	12. Chapter 12

Ilyria spent three days sharing a tent with Cullen. To their credit, the soldiery chose not to comment or discuss this in any way in the road to Kirkwall, and rumors were not spread even as they reached their destination. Lyri took it as a blessing; Cullen appreciated it as a sign of good training. Truthfully it was the men determining Cullen had shown exemplary behavior in the past and deserved a bit of calm respite.

Business in the City of Chains was blessedly brief. Lyri managed a meeting with the viscount-de-facto of the moment and passed on her desire to keep bad blood against the Wardens to a minimum. The sacrifice made to keep the peace- that the Wardens be disallowed within the city limits unless they had been citizens prior to their oath-was a small price to pay. People still recognized Anders the Betrayer as a Warden after all, and now with what was done to Hawke... well, their collective trepidation was understood.

Lyri had saddled her horse with a remorseful slowness. Cullen and his soldiers had just departed for Skyhold, and it had been a while since she'd made a truly kind journey- especially, as it were, past tunnels to the Deep Roads. Yet to her amazement, when she passed she found no draw to the spawn beneath. She made a bit of the anomaly in her journal that there appeared to be none here as she sealed the entry and went in her way to Fereldan- to Denerim. Home.

Alistair was waiting for her, arms open at the city gates. A watchman must have told him she was spotted, and she happily collapsed into his embrace after the trying trip. His strength held her, his kiss on her face the best welcome she could have wanted in her life. His eyes smiled brighter than his lips.

"Missed you," the Warden murmured lightly into his shoulder.

"Of course you did," Alistair replied. "I'm extremely missable."

"Git."

Alistair kissed her on the forehead once more. "Prat."

They went together through the gates of Denerim, hand in hand. Citizens smiled at the duo, approving of the quiet relationship as they walked along. They purposely moved slowly, allowing themselves to be noticed while heading towards the central castle. Both moved purposefully and with extra awareness in the marketplace, ducking into Wonders of Thedas and chuckling as they moved.

Lyri moved along the side of the tables, halfway through the store. Her hands gripped the edge, supporting her frame until Alistair came alongside and put a hand on her shoulder. He quietly bent, lips at her ear. "Is everything alright?"

Ilyria leaned in, shaking her head. "A little light-headed," she admitted as she felt him press against her. When he chuckled, she gulped. "I need to get home."

Alistair quite suddenly picked up the Warden, carrying her in his arms while she nuzzled into his shoulder. She couldn't help but smile even as she felt so weak- oddly weak, actually. Like she could hardly keep herself conscious. She was highly thankful her partner had grabbed her this way because she might not have made it to the palace grounds otherwise. He didn't make any pretenses this time: he brought her directly into his personal chambers, called for a healer or doctor, and shut the door to give her some peace.

Thirty minutes later, feeling much more like herself, Ilyria almost declared Ned the knock from what she was certain would be a healer at the door. Yet she knew Alistair would grumble if she dismissed the person so called out a quiet admittance. The individual was... not what she had expected.

"I... aren't you meant to be dead?" The words flew from her mouth without thought before she could think to stop them, her cheeks reddening with embarrassment. Luckily, the entrant took the comment in stride and simply chuckled.

"Those rumors may be exaggerated."

"Glad to hear it, Wynne." Lyri considered the woman, blinking. "You must be..!"

"A very old woman." She cleared her throat, coming up closer. "Now. Let's have a good look at you, Warden."

"Lyri. Please, or are you such an old woman you can't remember my name?"

Wynne shook her head, taking her hands and putting them on her patient. "Let's have a look at you then, Warden. If you would turn a bit for me?"

Ilyria did as requested, feeling the rush of healing magics from her elder friend. The mage let the touch wash over and through before rather abruptly pulling back. Wynne gave a peek of shock and looked to the younger woman.

"What's the prognosis, then?"

Wynne looked down with her eyes twinkling slightly. "Quite dire, I'm afraid," she tisked. "You're having a child."

Ilyria let her mouth drop. Certainly this had been desired, of course, but she hadn't even imagined it this soon... "Are... are we... sure?" she asked, voice quiet and low.

Wynne's eyebrows raised. "I wouldn't joke with you in this, dear. You are going to have this baby, Ilyria. In the interim, you will likely be a bit weaker than normal. I suggest an herb..."

Ilyria found her head floating, her certainty receding. She depended on her rote memorization to keep the information in mind, taking a deep breath and calming herself. She leaned back on the bed, forcing down the brief nausea that should have been her warning long before now. When Wynne headed out the door, Ilyria closed her eyes and found sleep- waking to find Alistair on the bed beside her, his arm wrapped around her.

It looked like the world was about to get a little smaller.


	13. Chapter 13

To my dear Alistair and Ilyria Theiren-

I have heard of your great fortune in not only your recent marriage but also the birth of your son Kallen. I hope you shall continue to be prosperous as the year goes on. I miss both of you deeply.

The Inquisition is changing. It is no longer an alliance as it once was. Oh the Lady Inquisitor and her ladies certainly continue as if it were, but the discussions are much different. They speak of disarming- of redoubling the search for our lost companion... of creating an alliance with the qun...

I probably shouldn't be telling either of you this.

Love makes us do strange things. I have seen it in the Inquisitor, in myself. I no longer have nightmares the way I used to while the lyrium worked it's way out of my system; now I see possible paths, what would have happened if I had given into hatred all those years ago. I wonder which one of you would have found me, or if I would have been lost to history. But you did come for me, both of you, and I owe you both a great debt for what you did to save me back in Kinloch. If this makes me more likely to explain that the Inquisition is fracturing- that it needs must fracture- then I believe it can be of little harm.

We are leaving next week for Orlais. There the future of this organization will be decided, and I must admit my own fears in this meeting. The Inquisition has held me in place for so long I can't imagine what I would be without it. I am no longer a Templar, yet I would have purple as though I were, and the idea of being without that guiding light scares me. Whatever that may mean for my future, I will persevere; not just for myself, but also because...

Why are the simplest truths sometimes the most difficult things to say?

It will have to wait for when we meet again. After Orlais, after the madness, I plan to take some time. Then we will see each other again, and talk about this. I look forward to it immensely.

Until then I am, as always, your loyal Cullen Rutherford

* - * - * - * - •

For Commander Cullen Rutherford of the Most Exalted Inquisition-

As you heard, we called him Kallen. The irony did not escape Ilyria or myself, though the council still believes that he is named after my half-brother. I do not plan to illuminate them otherwise.

I understand that some things just don't come out well on paper. It's nothing we have not been able to put into words but it does seem to say more now. We miss you Cullen, both of us, and that is not something that will ever change. Even at the hardest and happiest of times there was something missing- you. Your friendship, your support... and that other, more difficult truth that letters seem to hate.

We WILL talk, just as we WILL see each other again. I had originally thought to go to Orlais myself for this discourse, this trial over the Inquisition, but there is so much to do. Ilyria needs me. Kallen needs me. When this is done- if it is done- there will be time. And if need be there is a place for a talented commander in Fereldan.

We are awaiting our next meeting with baited breath.

Until then,

Alistair


	14. Heir and a Spare Ending

Cullen walking into the castle in Denerim was slightly awkward. Soldiers shot to attention in a way he was accustomed to well enough, but the shining armor of the king's guard was slightly intimidating in spite of the command he was now comfortable in. Along his side trotted his mabari, glancing from side to side as he majestically strode and ensured way was made for his master. The duo made a sight as they went without making a scene, heading together towards the throne room as guided.

"Commander Cullen?"

The Commander stopped short and turned at the light voice, seeing the perfectly coifed red-brown hair he had been aching to view for most of two years. Lyri had a bright glow about her, a gentle smile as she reached for his shoulder and pulled in for a hug.

"Commander Amell... or is it Theirin now?"

Ilyria kissed her oldest friend on the cheek with a chuckle. "I suppose it is, but they still call me Amell. Old habits die hard I suppose." Backing up, she held Cullen at arm's length. "I... we... got your letter. Does this mean..?" Her voice trailed off, as if unwilling to state her hope.

"I find myself a bit out of sorts," Cullen admitted. "It is a conversation I would have with you in a more... personal setting."

Lyri nodded in understanding and took his hand. She guided him away from the throng of observers and guards towards the private quarters of the palace. Cullen patted his thigh lightly, the mabari following along with watchful eyes. Ilyria chuckled at the scene. "So- what's his name?"

"Hmm? Oh! I... I named him Calanhad."

Ilyria let a hand slide down, letting the mabari smell her. He licked her hand slightly before nuzzling it and falling back into place. "It appears he likes me. Or he can smell Barksby on me."

"Barksby?"

Lyri nodded. "When I joined the Wardens I found a mabari who was impacted by the taint. Alistair named her Barkspawn- she lasted longer than she should have. When she pupped last I took one of the males from the litter, and that's my Barksby."

The duo entered the residential quarters, shutting the door behind them. As soon as it closed Lyri threw her arms around Cullen's neck and pulled in for a kiss. It was sudden, energetic- hungry.

And interrupted by enthusiastic barking and crying in tandem as the mabari met, making noise and waking Callan.

"Well," Lyri whispered, "that was typically short lived."

"Light sleeper?"

Ilyria nodded, eyebrows perking. "Does it... run in the family?" she asked.

Cullen's breath hitched at the acknowledgement that he was the child's father. His hand lifted, scratching his neck. "Umm- yeah."

Ilyria reached up, grasping his hand lightly to pull it down to one of her bosoms. "You may be able to explain few other... quirks?"

Cullen looked at her slightly gape-mouthed, head turning in its end. "Do you... do you mean for me to..?"

Lyri moved to the room with her son, where the not-quite-year-old prince fussed until she picked him up. "The thought does come to mind," she admitted. "Wasn't it enjoyable?"

"Maker, yes."

The door came open to reveal Alistair entering the rooms. He looked from one to the other and shrugged as he pulled off his shirt. "Well. You started a bit early, didn't you?"

"Started?" Cullen looked unsure, panicked. "Started what?"

Ilyria blushed. "It's just... Alistair and I wanted you to... that is, we were thinking... I know it's hard to find a position that can keep you busy now that the Inquisition is finished. And I hoped- we hoped..." Her voice trailed off, uncertain and silenced quite suddenly in a form of fear.

It was Alistair who saved her. "I've been lacking a capable commander," he explained. "It's been peaceful for many years, but if what we've heard about the qunari is true..."

"It is."

"Then it would be prudent to have someone at my side who is ready to stand against them." Alistair shrugged and pointed to Lyri. "Not to mention that can take guidance from the woman who has a small army of her own at her disposal and secret routes to half of the kingdom."

Cullen paused, glaring at Ilyria as she cradled the child in her arms and met his eyes. "I may not have found the cure I was looking for," she admitted, "but the Deep Roads are fairly well mapped." She shrugged. "The dwarves have some great guides and and the darkspawn have receded immensely."

"I see."

Alistair reached out and took the baby in his arms. Callan cooed happily at his father, curling against his chest. Cullen smiled at the image, then his eyes flashed to Ilyria. "So," Alistair asked calmly, "what do you say?"

Cullen looked around the room. The royal duo had created a life, and he wasn't sure if he had a part in it. "I wouldn't want to be an intruder of any sort," he started. "Given our history I'm not sure about staying so close for so long..."

Alistair cocked his head. "I rather thought that history would play a positive part in this decision. At least I hoped so."

Cullen felt his chest tighten, looking again at the trio and then to the two mabari who had stopped any sniffing or barking and sat on the floor looking back. "I didn't want to assume anything," he admitted after several minutes.

"Cullen!" Ilyria chided, shaking her head. "You have as much right to be here as either Alistair or I!"

Alistair chuckled at her outburst but nodded as he deposited Callen into his arms. "I'm not saying we'll be parading it around, granted, but our family is only complete with you here."

"We were a part of something," Ilyria commented in addition. "That has been in pieces for far too long. I... I miss you."

Cullen couldn't help but want this. He looked around him, seeing exactly what he had been trying to convince himself he did not want. "I've... missed you as well."

"Besides," Alistair chimed in, "you know what they say. An heir and a spare."

As Ilyria laughed, the sound ringing, Cullen felt lighter. He belonged here, he realized- the path lead him back. He moved to take a seat on the couch, the luxurious fluff enveloping him, and settled there. Ilyria and Alistair cuddled on either side of him. "Is that a yes?" Lyri whispered.

"Yes," he whispered, unsurprised when a kiss was deposited on either cheek.

The perks of knowing the royals, of commanding in Fereldan, were big things. They would be nice of course, but not worth the aggravations of this life. It would be the day-to-day, of seeing Callan and getting to be near both Alistair and Lyri, of having someone to really talk with- to come back to... those things, small as they may be, were too good to pass up.

"Good." Alistair's voice is full of relief and happiness. "Now that is settled, how about I finish changing and we get some dinner?"

The resounding assent was echoed by the young prince, who whimpered and reached for his mother. As Ilyria took his and moved away to resolve that issue, Cullen thought about the twists and turns...

It had led him exactly where he had to be.


End file.
